What Lies Beneath the Smile
by Sorano101
Summary: A poignant young woman is devilishly cursed and is fighting to keep herself from surrendering to the Hellish fires. What happens when the One Piece crew finds themselves caught in the crossfire? ZoroXOc
1. Prologue

_Summary: Tormented, abashed…__**cursed**__. A poignant young woman is bound for Hell by a hand-me-down curse which she is determined to stop. What happens when the One Piece crew finds themselves caught in the crossfire? Persuaded to sanction her as a crewmate to make a better life for her and her family, they end up traveling the treacherous road of her past, and fighting alongside her in the battle against a demon, known as Kurayami, who is now craving for her flesh alongside him in his quest for immorality amongst mankind._

What Lies Beneath the Smile

By: Sorano101

A/N Okay…this is the REVISED introduction to my first fan fiction. It's basically an insightful approach to the main character, Aria's view of the world and helps to set the stage for the story. Enjoy the improved version!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the One Piece characters, nor the world they live in. However, I **do** own Aria and her family.

Prologue:** My Bittersweet Philosophy**

_(Aria's POV)_

_Cursed_…for such a bad omen of a word it has a very direct way of exposing itself, it not confined to the darkest crevices of the spirit. It hovers over the victim, like a hurricane over the ocean, swirling obsidian reflected on the once-tranquil waters, threatening all who comes near. In other words, you don't have to tattoo it onto my forehead; everyone knows already, if not told by the aura but by the eyes. They say that the eyes are the window into the soul, so the infestation must drift in the black holes centered in my irises. Do my pupils have the stare of a dead man, the gaze of death? However much you claim to know of the afflicted, the afflicted knows better than most. It engraves itself in one's mind, and may seem the most unconquerable element on this plane of existence. If you are one of the misfortunate who has had this torment unleashed upon you, it scorches such a feeling in your soul that it covers your heart and mind like a heavy fog that darkens your thoughts and steadily rips you apart. The infestation eventually consumes, strength wilts like a flower, petals now feeling the brute force of the wind as it tears them one by one from the weakened stem. Fighting is futile, for the infestation spreads like cancer, without a care and without stopping. Why waste an already disappearing strength?

_Blessed_…and yet, some say, a blessing and a curse are one, two halves of a whole, that the darkness will make the light brighter in the struggle for dominance. But to others, well…they say to be blessed one must feel that way, to be **seen** that way. Apparently, where most come from, it's less about true value than face value. They define you by your mask that obscures your true form that lies hidden just beneath the surface. So, if this curse was by any chance a blessing in disguise, then the truth is irrelevant. This is why the world is seen as consumed by sin—because what lies beneath it is irrelevant. This is why the world is often seen through rose-colored glasses—because what lies beneath a rosy appearance is irrelevant. If a girl is always smiling, then no one would notice that she is abused by her drunken father. If the neighbor next door is callous and antisocial, no one would care to know that he had recently lost his wife and child to an unfair twist of fate. Face value is the most valuable to everyone but oneself.

So I merely stay out of everyone's way and deal with my own surface value, because it would be stupid to try to change an unchangeable opinion. I let people sneer and go about their prejudice ways without complaint. Before I might've angered easily and deflated quickly, but I have learned: I can't expect people to see me for what I am, nor can I expect to ever avoid my own fate. Their reactions will always stay the same because I will always be the same. I have preserved my strength so I can be like the flower and keep my petals, because without them keeping control, if any, is impossible. I cannot let the winds of society break me because the disease itself already threatens to break the stem of my sanity and steal my petals of strength, and not only for myself.

My mother, my father, and my brother are whom I must stay strong for. And although my father has already passed on, I must keep his spirit alive as a decedent of his honorable genes. My brother's spirit died simultaneously, in a sick twist of fate, so I must live for him as well. Since Father's passing and Carlos' death of purpose...well, my mother is almost worse off than I ever was. Whether it may be slow or painful, ludicrous or shameful, I must stay strong. There are worse things than death: the death of their happiness, joy, affection, their undying love. I'd rip out my own heart for their protection, for the preservation of their _innocence_, for that is the only thing that I cannot give.

But, the harsh truth is a crushing enemy; I'm the only defender trying to score against a sea of offenders. The odds are indisputably devastating, since I seem to be the only one who is able to walk towards a purposeful end...but, damn my affliction... Since before I was born, was I carrying this burden upon my shoulders, my curse, that weighs me down and it takes more than what I have within me to get back on my feet.

My mind says I should be rational and accept a deadly fate. But when I come to acceptance, my heart retaliates, lobbies passion in my core, and makes me fight this inner demon and the world at the same time with superhuman strength. It's the battlefield or a walk through a cemetery, waiting for death. I'm either walking or battling alone. I can feel the heaviness of the tasks weighing on my shoulders, making my goal seem ever more unreachable. Is there no end to this madness?

A/N Okay, there's the new default chapter! It's a lot better in my opinion. R&R please!


	2. Chapter 1: Why I Live

A/N: Okay, now on to the REVISED_ real_ beginning! Enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: I own none of the characters from the manga/series; however, I do own Aria, her family, and the town/island of Ambrea.

Chapter 1: 

Why I Live

_(Aria's POV)_

_A long, long time ago, the vast city of Ambrea was at its grandest moment, its streets filled with entertainment and leisure. Children with little, round, smiling faces played merrily, without a care in the world. Glorious buildings stood tall, beautifully decorated with colorful, imported tiles from 'round the world. 'It's a town made for the God's themselves' some said. It was truly the place to be in its most splendid times…_

_But now…now, I'm not even confident if anybody knows of this once-proud city. Now, it's just a vast ghost town, and the people haunting it are all minions of their own selfishness and pride. And it's all because of the exposed truth of the one deadly commandment, twisted and wreaked upon by a devilish entity._

_On the sixth day of the sixth month of the sixth year the lives of many were slaughtered, mercilessly claimed as all of Hell was unleashed. A lone man was chosen of the villagers, whom then suffered six days of being tormented by visions of black snakes with red eyes crawling over him and covering him in a horrid blackness while having bloodied dreams of death. This man, on the sunset of the sixth day, was then possessed and killed half the villagers in cold blood by wielding inhuman strength. The man had marks of strangulation by the snake's that glowed black, eyes reminiscent of a dead man's stare into oblivion and his body stained in blood not his own. The man, pronounced the physical form of the demon affliction, was killed by a series of arrows and the nightmare ended._

_No one knew why this cursed doom was unleashed upon them. Some believed the Devil craved human flesh and was trying to fulfill his hunger, and others believed that they have all sinned, and the Devil was there to take them all to Hell. Either way, it did not matter for the wrath of the Underworld had been sheathed, leaving behind a memory of darkness and fear. The city was never restored to its former glory due to the fear of a second demonic slaughter._

_And much to everyone's dread, they soon found an everlasting evil that dubbed a babe with an anguish curse once every generation, to live as a symbol, a pawn of demon affliction. These individuals were christened as Nousatsu, or a "bewitched child". These children switch gender every generation of passing and were given an unspeakably "unholy" curse that brought pain and misery to all that lived around them. Not all decedents seemed to possess this curse, but once the pawn develops the "black snakes" or the "affliction" upon their body, they are destroyed by burning on the stake. Executions are still preformed, though now they are merely forced off a cliff into rocky waters for an easier ritual ceremony._

_The last descendent was male. His name was Bryant and he had a beautiful family with his forgiving wife. He was afflicted with the black snake markings when his children were still young. He was thrown off the cliff without hesitation. His daughter was then expected to be the next descendent as soon as her father's heart stopped beating._

_I, Aria, am the daughter. I am 19 and was afflicted on my 16__th__ birthday. I must stay alive, or else my younger brother will be the next descendent and he will die. _

_Three years ago…_

Today, in the early morn, I walked upon the gray cobblestone path in the center of town, head hung as if in shame, my hands curled around an, empty burlap sack, though veiled by a long, black cloak that was draped over my body. Like every morning, a thick fog hung in the streets like a damned sin. Well, I should probably know since _I'm_ blamed for it. And alas, I am hesitant to say my "problem" is the reason why. The dark aura of shame hangs over me like a threatening thunderhead.

The cloak I wear is for very…protective reasons. It protects me from the outside world—no, not physically. Like hell its bullet-proof. If I do not wear it, it means the end of two lives. Thus, to spare the cemetery of two more decomposing bodies, I will stay in this cloak, perhaps forever, depending on how careful I am. And it's not like anyone is bothered by it. They already know apparently and don't busy themselves with it because I'm a** Nousatsu**.

My mind was on _other_ things at the moment, like all days, on things other than was I have come to expect. With those cruel words or cold stares awaiting me, I find it bliss to focus on other things. And despite the many that now glared at me as they hurried past, abruptly shoving me out of their way or keeping their distance, I give it no heed. I have become numb inside, shielding myself from the fear or hatred I receive from them whenever contact was made.

My pace becomes slow as I near my destination—an old, rickety food cart, working far beyond its years, parked at the side of the avenue, produce lined neatly on its moldy shelves. I take my time scanning over the selections, eyes darting from one plant to the next, examining them with my eyes, before taking some of my liking—a few ripe tomatoes, an eggplant, cabbage, and a few pieces of fruit; just enough to get my family and I through the day.

I counted up the cost, before pulling out a small pouch out of a pocket sewn onto my cloak, holding it in the palm of my hand, as well as the filled burlap sack, as I walked to the merchant. I outreach both my palms to where he was standing; back facing me, hunched over as he placed some apples on an empty spot on a low shelf. I waited patiently to gain his attention for a few moments, until my arms grew tired of leaving them outstretched, so I cleared my throat.

"Ahem, sir...?" I began asking, my tone quiet, "I wish to purchase these items…"

"Eh, I'll get to you in a second …" he muttered, finishing the assortment, then straightening his posture and wiping his hands on his apron, before he guided his attention to me. As soon as he raised his eyes to look upon me, his expression turned from somewhat general to a stony scowl.

Grumbling something inaudible under his breath, he stared crudely down at the packaged coins in my left hand, but made no movement to take the money. Instead, after a few long moments, he swiped the burlap sack from my hands.

"Damn wench…you're practically useless…" he hissed under his breath, but made sure it was loud enough for me to hear. The merchant then opened the sack, counted the amount of money I owned him, before tossing it back at me. I caught it, and then tucked the open end under my arm as I gave him the money that was needed, without having him to tell me the fee.

Holding it out to him, I heard him mumble another 'damn wench' under his breath, before pilfering the money from my hand. "Get out of my sight, Nousatsu." With that, I spun on my heel, and walked back the direction I came, the words bouncing off of me like rubber.

Hmm… can you believe the hospitality I receive? I guess I shouldn't blame him because I can't say anyone in the world would have acted any differently.

During all my trips to and from home, I've always found time to take the _long_ way home, a route that leads through the most of the more run-down areas of Ambrea, where old monuments and buildings have long ago outgrown their glory, and the old harbor assists no more visiting ships. I call this place "Musei-nagori" or "silent remains". The hushed aura of the dwelling was strangely comforting, offering no harsh words or ferocity. I feel welcome there, for there is no one here to make me feel unwanted. This place is forgotten, making me feel at home with throwing off my disguise and forgetting how I am different.

At that moment, I was staring down the middle of Musei-nagori, unmoving, enjoying the moment of no obligation. The ocean breeze toyed with my cloak, it whipping wildly about my body, the coastline scents relaxing my overwhelmed mind. This place…even though I walk through it everyday, the feeling of being in its godly presence is awe-inspiring—it just holds so many blissful memories…memories of a happier time, when my curse wasn't known of.

It's truly depressing, to almost relive a time of great joy and pleasure in contrast to what we have now.

I take a sure foot forwards as I begin the steadied walk through the dormant of past reminiscence. Walking through this admirable place is…an experience to say the least. I often have small flashbacks of past games of tag with the other children of Ambrea, and tough training sessions with Father. A tad strange, maybe, but it refreshes my purpose and helps me always get through the day without feeling as it's useless. Happiness brings about my resolve in life, to preserve what little of it we have left. Honestly, I would do anything to resurrect some more of the good times, but I have not yet found a way. Because everything bad has traced back to the Affliction, I feel as if I cannot do anything besides accept it. I just can't change fate...right?

As I passed the remains of a once-beautiful water fountain, I stopped, crouching down gingerly picking up a sullied chunk of a broken blue tile, dirtied and brittle with age. I rubbed the smooth surfaced-tile on my cloak, before bringing it up to the front of my face. With my other hand I pull off the hood shadowing my face, and revealing a new reflection upon the smooth-surfaced jewel.

I stare hard at the doll-like woman who looked back at me, her long, chocolate brown locks cascading around her chiseled face and upon her cloaked, firm shoulders. Striking, pale green optics with prominent, exotic lines that stared into my own, hers having an ancient spark of passion overshadowed by an unrelenting sorrow. The nose was petite with pale pink, full lips over a small mouth. Her skin was porcelain, from being hidden from the Sun.

Her complexion was fair enough, almost serene, though the history was tainted by an overpowering evil. Nothing could hide the profound markings that were chiseled on the right side of her face, partly hidden by her hair, but still awkwardly visible. They held a deeply dark look to them, the scars in a pattern of miraculous swirls and strokes.

Because of this…the woman's smile was no more.

My hand gingerly reached up and lightly brushed against the molded symbols upon the far right side of my face. Both hands dropped to my side, my left hand clenching into a fist around the tile. My grasp was furiously resilient, for I felt it pierce into my flesh and then heard it shatter, it splintering into millions of shards in my palm. I opened my hand, letting the splinters fall from my palm.

I watched blankly as the wind blew the tile's smallest residue away, them tumbling upon the cobblestone street, before they disappeared from sight. I then stared at the remains that laid in dismay on the ground by my feet, as bits at a time were swept away by the land breeze, the remains slowly disappearing from sight.

I can't stand my reflection. Not my face, but the _thing_ on my face. The damn Affliction; it's the thing that would be the end of me, the end of my brother, and the end of my mother. It would kill us all and it would be my fault. That's why I stay hidden; if I'm founded out, if it's noticed that I have concurred the final stage of the curse, they would kill me, then the Affliction would go to my brother, and they would kill him and my mother would have nobody... And I can assume she wouldn't want life if she had nothing to live for...

It's. My. Fault. And I can't do a damn thing about it besides staying **alive**.

Shame consumes my mind as I continue on my way, absent-mindedly walking the route back home.

Loose dirt and rock crumble beneath my feet as I scale the steep dirt pathway to my mother's cottage that sat upon a high cliff overlooking the south sea, rising above the gloomy fog that is cast upon the heart of Ambrea. It's a beautiful setting, though just my immediate family really appreciates it. As I reach the top of the cliff, I pause, taking in a large breath of the crisp, ocean air, letting it cleanse the sorrow from my features, before continuing forth.

I hesitate when walking across the plateau up top of the cliff, memories of Father and I sparring, my brother being too bashful to join in, and my mother's lovely soprano laughter echoing in my mind. I can't stand how much things have changed...I feel so useless in not being able to stop the events that changed us into the sad, pitiful creatures that my family and I have become. It's _my_ fault...I so very wish I could change things _now_, but...what can I do?

_*drip*...*drip*_

The rain distracts me from my thinking, my eyes lifting upward to observe the rolling clouds above my head. They unleash their load upon the soggy coastal village of Ambrea, and I can't tell whether the tears rolling down my face are the sky's or mine.

******************************************************

All is silent…no words spoken, no contact to reality was made. All I wanted was to listen to the rain pitter-patter, as it danced upon the windowpane, like fingertips tapping upon a wooden drum, in a soothing, rhythmic patter. My eyes were only partly open, drifting into an empty abyss of an eerie calm, though strangely comforting. My blank stare looked on as raindrops fell from the sky, moistening Mother Earth and all of her goodness. On my lap lay my brother Carlos' head, him lulled to sleep by the rainstorm. I lovingly ran my tired fingers through his sandy hair and I got lost in my thoughts again.

I'm fond of the rain—it's uplifting in all of its carelessness and simplicity. The calmness of it lets me clear my head of all of its old, rusty memories and the questions I ask. The cleansing purifies my thoughts, making them my own to think again and dream once more, though its effects are merely temporary, for my mind always finds a way to wriggle back to the grim memories of the past several years of my young life. By far, the loss of my nakama, my Father, was by far the greatest burden that I carry upon my shoulders. It buried me, in a grave of horror. My heart still feels like it was torn out, after witnessing what killed me inside.

I watched my father being pushed over the edge. I heard the sickening crack of his body hitting the rocks below and my mother's desperate and uncontrolled sobs of terror. I saw the dead look in my brother's eyes. I felt my heart rip apart, not due to just the initial infection of the curse but my anguish and inner terror. I still have nightmares about it, even though it was almost three years ago...

My mother…I'd lend my heart out to her. She suffered as much as I did, if not more. It tore all of us apart. Father was the glue that held our family together. Without him, we were doomed to fail, but we didn't. For his sake we are holding tight for as long as we can.

After his death, no, his _murder_, I never dare speak of Father, and yet I reply the horrific scene over and over in my head. My head is still spinning like a top, and yet I find it easy to keep it all bottled up inside. I'm a coward…for I fear reliving it once more, and if I tell someone that's what is going to happen. It's like repeating your own death, over and over again.

However, I have many intentions to fully become someone my father wanted me to be: to be the one who's known of turning their life completely around, by doing many amazing things. He didn't believe that being a Nousatsu could be enough to keep me here forever, for he knew I would inherit the curse eventually. That's why Father always wanted me to be the best fighter I could be. He said it was a good start; it teaches me to get motivated, to gain endurance and honor in what I do. He wanted me to take my family and get out of this place. At one point I thought he wanted me to be a marine because of his expectations when I young, when it wasn't I who was afflicted by this scar…

_Flashback _

_It was a clear, crisp evening in late September. I hear the lullaby of waves crashing along the sandy shoreline, the rocking of the shifting tides relaxing. Father and I had just finished our daily training session, and were now sitting on the edge of the cliff nearby our house, our tired legs dangling off the edge of the cliff. At the naive age of nine, I asked a lot of questions, and every little thing that confused me made me irritable if I couldn't figure it out._

_A profound expression was visibly etched across my face, as I watched the sun set upon the darkening horizon. That afternoon was the first time Father had taught me so diligently, so painstakingly, and I wanted to know why. I asked him the previous day, during an offensive exercise and all I received was a grunted, "Because". This only frustrated me more, and yet my curiosity was growing._

_And there I was, trying to figure it out, deep in thought as I desperately tried to think of the answer to my question. I felt my father's eyes lay upon me, and out of the corner of my eye, saw his relaxed expression curved into an all-knowing smirk, and a small chuckle rise from his vocals. It must've been pretty damn obvious what I desired._

"…_What's your question?" he asked knowingly, turning his attention to me, "It isn't about why your Mother feeds you veggies all of the time is it? 'Cause we've been over that several times an-"_

"_Do you want me to become a Marine?" I interrupted, my gaze not drifting to him, but to my dangling feet._

"_What?" he murmured, sounding unsure to what I was asking of him._

"_Do you want me to be a Marine? We work everyday, and you're always so serious 'bout it and all…" I stammered, for it wasn't a simple thing to explain what was on my busy mind, "B-but…I don't wanna become a Marine, Father! It sounds so hard! And I don't wanna work for the crummy government!"_

_I paused, looking at my father with wide, arousing eyes, waiting what he had to say. He wasn't looking at me anymore, but at his lap, his back hunched forward, and with an unreadable expression upon his features. Suddenly, I was greeted with Father's loud, booming laughter, as he sat up, leaning backwards as if he was talking to the clouds. After a moment, his laughter died down, and he reached up to wipe a tear from his eye._

_Father looked to me, finding that I was supporting a very confused scowl with the added bonus of my arms crossed. My pouting made his grin all the more gleeful, as he reached over and gave my head a rough rub, messing up my hair._

"_Aw, poor little Aria…what have you been thinking?" he asked playfully, giving my head a quick pat before it returning to his side._

"_Well, it's just that you're--"_

"_What? That I'm always so strict and thorough with what I put into that little head of yours, hm? Tell me…what makes you think that I'm gonna make you join the Marines or the government?"_

"_Well…you—uh…hm…I dunno…"_

"_Let me answer your question, Aria—hell no, I don't want you to join the Marines! Those sniveling cowards do almost absolutely nothing, even when the face of danger is standing right in front of them! Remember this, the Marines have no honor. They do whatever their damned bosses' tell them to do; they always choose the way that's easier for them, whether or not it's the __**best**__ thing to do. And the only reason they enlist is because of the goods—the money they earn and unjustly take from people they meet. A pirate is by far more decent than a dog living under the Governments command. I'd rather you be a pirate in any circumstance involving the Marine Corp."_

"_A…a pirate?" I murmured, eyes wide, obviously surprised about his view point on things._

"_A real do-gooder sees hope in everything, even if death seems prone to happen. Many would risk their lives for their nakama and loved ones or people they've just met. I know that doesn't really sound that much like a typical pirate, but you'd be surprised. They're passionate about their comrades. That what I want you to be: a protector of all and never for a profit. Whether the victims have committed a crime or have never stepped foot into danger—_

_End Flashback_

"—everyone deserves a second chance. I teach you to be someone with honor, someone that's able to swear on their life that they will rescue the ones in need, resurrects the ones that have fallen, and sees the compassion in all you come to meet, good and bad. That's I teach you—to protect, to serve, to bring this world to justice, to have an idol's honor, to find your place in this world, which, I believe, can reach as far as the stars in the night. Don't let this curse that's put upon us hold you back. You have the potential to do great things, Aria, so go out and do great things."

Those words...they're the only justice I know of in this god-forsaken world I suffer in. Tears stung my eyes. Bless his words, for they hold a savior's honesty, and a mortal's perspective. It was his dream to see the world a better place, and now it's bestowed upon me. I will not allow a curse to burden me, to lock me to the ground, for I will reach high enough to touch the stars. That's why I fight, to keep his dream alive. That's why I live, to serve a greater purpose.

...I have to.

A/N Ah ha! There's the revised Chapter 1! :D Yayness! R&R people, please! And remember, be nice to me!

Peace Out,

Sorano101


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